Marked
by Selion
Summary: A sex-obsessed courier sets his sights on one of the marked men. Ulysses is ungracious about it.


Don't even ask me how someone with no skin, fat, major blood vessels, or nerve endings feels stuff or gets a boner and does the frickity frack with someone else. It's magic, okay.

* * *

"Lookit."

Ulysses grudgingly took the proffered pair of binoculars. There were miles untold of wrecked buildings and deeply scarred earth before them. Swirls and eddies of dust swept over the landscape, obscuring the rest of what wasn't already smoking or covered in shadow.

"At _what,_ exactly?" Ulysses grated. Without a direction or landmark, looking for a single thing in this endless waste could take eons.

"Here…" Dev heaved himself up from his perch on the rock beside him and crouched at Ulysses' back. Ulysses suffered his head to be gripped and shifted to the correct angle and he focused in again. "Right there."

"Hnn." A marked men camp, maybe ten or fifteen minutes out. Barricades made of either cars or brickwork, ragged tents, campfires, drifts of debris, and the skinless denizens themselves. Roaming, sleeping, on lookout. There was a scuffle between two of them under a partly-collapsed bridge that a few others were watching with interest. "And?"

"I wanna fuck one."

Ulysses blinked. "...Really." He didn't at all doubt Dev's desire to try it, the uncertainty came from how unapologetically violent the marked men were. There was no questioning or reasoning with them, just immediate, wild aggression. But the skepticism gave way to curiosity and wondering at the logistics of the act fairly quickly.

 _Logistics._

Not the way Dev would look crushed under one of them, sunburnt bronze skin draped in red as the ghoul tore into him. A blood-colored hand twisted into his soft, black curls. His annoyingly gorgeous face slack with bliss.

...And the fight ended. The bigger one with the dark goggles had won out and was now screaming wordlessly at the sky, victorious and beating a dripping fist against his chest. This was a supremely unwise idea. "That approach _always_ work for you?" he asked.

Hot breath on his neck as Dev reached around him again and pulled the binoculars a bit to the side so he could lean up and look through them as well. Their faces weren't touching, the bulky breathing mask wrapped around Ulysses' head kept them separated, but his skin still prickled at the nearness and the lanky arms settled on either side of him. Dev had never cared much about his boundaries or personal space. Probably no one else's either.

"Quite often, actually. It's a gift," Dev said. "I think you'd be shocked at how many of your Legion brothers I talked into my bed." His attention briefly re-centered on Ulysses, turning his face to brush against the short curtain of dreadlocks and what felt like the lightest touch of lips against his ear. "And it worked on you, didn't it?"

A chill spread over Ulysses' scalp and down his neck but he prevented the accompanying shiver from breaking loose. Dev was right, but he would not give the other courier the satisfaction of a physical reaction. He had already lost this game once and had no intention of acknowledging it or losing again. "You ridiculous pest."

A short, breathy laugh came from Dev that smelled of tobacco and agave syrup. His arm curled tighter around Ulysses' shoulder and his hand fell to pluck at the collar of his coat. "I could always stay if you're feelin' lonely; do this another time," he offered gently. "Suck your cock. Let you slap me around again."

And he would, would probably do a lot of things, if Ulysses just said that simple little word of agreement. ' _Yes.'_ Shame and temptation burned through his chest as he thought it. But he wouldn't say it, and would give no reaction. Never in life. Nothing but a slight hardening of his eyes that Dev couldn't see. He was grateful Dev's hand hadn't fallen further to feel the galloping of his heart. "Kind of you, but no," he answered, mouth dry.

A finger traced along the harsh line between his jaw and the edge of his mask. "You're very fetching when you're like this, you know," Dev murmured. It was a colossal effort to not flinch away from the soft touch. How satisfying it would be to grab that questing hand and twist it around; wrench a hurt little noise from Dev and stand over him with a fist in his hair. But that was what he wanted. Another loss.

"Devesh," Ulysses warned.

"Hmm, well." He was smiling; Ulysses could hear the stretch of his words. Dev seemed to give up, for now anyway, and turned back to the view through the binoculars. "Then I think maybe it'll have to be that big one all by his lonesome near the campfire that's almost out. Looks like he used to be a nice, polite NCR boy. What do you think?"

Ulysses peered back in and spotted the man Dev was talking about; not really wanting to see, but happy to get away from that conversation. He was in a secluded, empty area and his back was foolishly turned out to the darkness; encased in tan trooper armor, a ragged scarf tied loosely around his neck, and a massive rifle lay over large thighs. If the marked men retained anything of their former lives, one of the softer California grunts would likely be the safer bet. Legion were trained early on to be as vicious and deadly as possible, unlike the sad, near-volunteer quality of most of the NCR army. But Ulysses was still doubtful on whether that discrepancy held on past the change, so the thought was likely meaningless.

"Think he's going to put a couple more bullet holes in your head for your trouble. Maybe eat you afterwards."

As he stood, Dev mumbled something that sounded dangerously close to 'Not if I eat him first.' Ulysses grunted and held the binoculars up for him to take back. Calloused fingers wrapped around his entire hand instead, keeping the field glasses pressed into his palm.

"I've lived a good life anyway. I guess we'll have to see what happens, won't we," Dev said. He turned and made his careful way down the hill pointedly looking away, leaving Ulysses there with the binoculars in hand and his skin on fire. He dropped them into the dirt by his side, wiping his hand against his leg as if he'd touched something slimy. _Shameless brat._

It took about ten minutes of heated internal debate to scoop up the binoculars again and bring them angrily back to his face.

-ooo-

He'd had to hold in a laugh as he left a blushing Ulysses at his perch. The former frumentarius was nowhere near as slick as he thought he was; his wants excruciatingly easy to read even with that bulky mask over his face. He played his cards close to his chest about most things, but not this. It seemed like he couldn't.

And he was such a killjoy. Maybe he thought his awkward denial a point of pride but it wasn't doing either of them any favors. Really a pity.

After a short trek downward, Dev slowed and found a good spot to wait and watch, leaning quietly against an upturned dumpster some fifty feet behind his quarry. The man _(ghoul?)_ was big and broad, but not unmanageable; he'd wrestled down worse. A shag of sandy, no-color hair covered his head, brushing the tips of his ears and his neck. The red of his heavy muscles peeked out at his collar and the bare forearms and hands plainly displayed them. Just the thought of being pinned down and touched by those powerful limbs was making him flush with heat. Heat, and maybe a shade of fear. He knew just as well as Ulysses did that the marked men were violent, uncontrollably so, and had no hesitations about cannibalism. But sometimes... you simply got the urge for something strange. Even horrifying. And the danger just made it that much sweeter.

The ghoul shifted a little but never turned his head to look behind him, eyes stuck on the low campfire before him. This was as easy as it was ever going to get.

Stepping softly and without rhythm, Dev stalked toward the seated figure, heart thumping and a sheen of sweat covering his back. By the time he was noticed he was only a few feet away and he launched himself at the ex-trooper. Knee firmly dug into the large back, both arms looped tight around his, and one hand clapped quick over his mouth.

There was a muffled snarl as the ghoul jerked and then immediately started thrashing side to side trying to shake free. He was strong, but thankfully the disadvantage in leverage was enough to keep him on the ground. Dev grasped tighter and leaned in to speak quietly over the scarf-wrapped shoulder.

"Hey, hey, easy there, cowboy," he soothed as the ghoul wrenched hard against him, struggling toward his gun. "You look a little..." he paused at a forceful jerk that nearly overturned both of them, "...lonely out here all by yourself; like you might want some company. Do you?" Dev gripped the ghoul's mouth harder, grinning as he yanked it outward and kissed the firm red tendons crisscrossing his neck. The texture under his lips and fingers was odd. He'd touched the marked men, very curious what they felt like after having killed so many of them, but this one was warm and moving. _Alive_ in all the right ways.

"I want you to fuck me, big guy." He leaned in close, nosing over the tensed cheek and jaw. The ghoul smelled overwhelmingly of iron and spent gunpowder, the powdery Divide sand. "Think you'd be interested in that?"

If not, he'd have to make a quick retreat, hopefully avoiding a bullet in the back or the other marked men being called down on him. And then he'd suffer through Ulysses' smug looks when he made his way back up through Hopeville to the canyon overhang. But if _yes…_ Well.

At the first touch of Dev's lips, the ghoul's violent twisting had stuttered and then slowed. Now, after the proposal it ceased completely, though he was still breathing hard through his nose and his body was stiff as a steel beam. Processing what had been said maybe. Dev knew it was a favored pastime of theirs; the marked men didn't do much at all beyond killing, fucking, eating, and sleeping. Not really feral, they could talk and collude and strategize scarily well; they were just very devoted to those basic functions. Momentarily amused, Dev thought them not too unlike the career mercenaries back in Nevada.

Or himself, really, if he wanted to be fair.

There was a deep breath from the ghoul, pulled in and then jetted out against his hand… and then a jerky nod. Dev took a second to congratulate himself on his fantastically bad decision making.

Preparing for a sudden ambush, he let his hands relax and fall away, releasing the ghoul's mouth and arms. He was nearly trembling with the heady mix of nerves and arousal he felt, forehead sweaty and cock jutting uncomfortably against the confines of his dirty jeans.

But there was nothing; no booming scream to alert the rest of the camp and no savage twist of the torso that would portend a strike. Just a low growl in the man's throat as he laid his rifle aside and turned his head to fix his pale eyes on Dev, muscles tensing and shifting. Like a beast.

Dev had to wonder what the marked man saw when he looked at him. He knew his body was nothing special; the typical courier gauntness from non-stop walking and running, long, gawkish legs, and a slouch he couldn't get rid of. It was his face that got him what he wanted with people. His innocent, boyish grin combined with his dirty mouth. But would a Divide ghoul care about any of that? Somehow doubtful. He was just a living, willing entity. And that was fine. It felt honest enough.

"Go on," Dev said as the man rolled over onto his knees and knelt there directly in front of him, eyeing him over. Dev's gaze momentarily dropped to the faded name tag still holding on by a few stitches on his chest. _RIVERA,_ it said. _That might have mattered once,_ he thought, looking back up into the wild eyes. _Not now._ "Let me see what you've got."

Red fingers loosed and pulled off the metal breastplate, unbuckled the belt cinching his coat together, and roughly shuffed his pants down, exposing the lower part of his torso, thickly muscled thighs, and, even considering the lack of skin, a really nice dick.

"Oh, wow," Dev mumbled appreciatively, reaching out a hand to wrap around the considerable girth and lightly trace over it. The ghoul growled and arched into the touch, one hand closing around Dev's shoulder. "Don't hurt me too bad, big guy."

The hand on his arm shoved him around to face away then pressed his shoulder blades down until Dev's face and chest were in the dirt. He let the ghoul hold him there against the ground for a moment, fingers warm on his spine and then dragging down to hook into his waistband. Dev's heart was slamming and his face was hot as his pants were ripped downwards, fetching up around his thighs and binding them together. Pebbles ground against his arms and the sweat on his cheek mixed with the dust covering the concrete; he realized this was about as vilely excellent as he'd imagined. He felt the weight and rough slide of the ghoul's thick cock between his cheeks, just teasing there up and down. With no further assistance it would be an impossibly tight fit. "Get your fingers in me," he panted against the ground. "Three or four and then do it."

A low snarl, then a hot splat of spit against his ass and a thick, textured finger was pressing in. A second quickly followed and he moaned at the wet slide in… and the drag back out. Nothing to do but clench his hands tight and whisper ' _Oh shit, oh fucking shit,'_ as the fingers opened him wider and the heavy cock slid rhythmically to the side against his asscheek. He hoped Ulysses was sitting up there enjoying the show; maybe with the palm of his hand jammed against his dick and telling himself he _wasn't_ gonna jack off. No, he was going to put the binoculars down right _now._

The fingers sank all the way in and Dev hissed out ' _You fuck,'_ into his bent forearm. Saliva was dripping ticklishly down the backs of his legs, his ass was aching with the friction and a need for _more_ and _faster,_ and he had a brief moment to really think about where he was right now. A ravaged, dust-choked canyon over the California border, bent under a very ghoulified NCR trooper, praying for that same trooper's dick to be inside him very soon. Moments of self-reflection were rare for him, but the situation was too strange to ignore. Kneeling in this tiny slice of broken America, desperately wanting that same ruination visited on himself. Something to sate this _need_ for just a little while. Yeah, fuck it, he'd been ruined before and come out the other side alright.

Dev made a low noise as the ghoul spit again and the third finger teased the edge of his hole and worked inside. Fuck, he was burning and stinging and this was so fucking hot. Dev turned his head enough so he could peer over his shoulder and across his back to watch what the ghoul was doing to him. The massive arms were tense and bulging, one hand holding him still and the other driving deep into him and stretching his asshole apart. A shiver ran over his skin as the ghoul looked up, light blue eyes burning into his as he slowly and deliberately withdrew his fingers and licked them, reaching down and spreading the saliva over his cock.

Nothing was going to ever come close to this in terms of the exhilarating terror that was coursing through him and making him so achingly hard. How easy would it be for the ghoul to just decide to reach forward and snap his thin, exposed neck? Or to pluck his pistol from his side, place the barrel at the back of his skull, and let fly. Or to slowly strangle him to death after he plunged in, Dev's air-starved body writhing and dying around his cock. Or to lean down and just bite and bite and _bite…_

"Fuck, man, fucking give it to me," Dev rasped.

He watched the ghoul slick his hand up and down a few more times and then the thick head was pressing against and into him. The sting and awful stretch was so… goddamn satisfying. Dev moaned a little at the rotten elation he felt. _Fuck,_ but he'd needed this. The ghoul's hands settled firmly against his hips as he leaned over Dev's body, nudging in as deep as he could go and blowing a hot breath over his shoulder blade. Their eyes locked again and the ghoul's hands clenched tighter and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a savage grimace. Dev was trapped and open and perfectly alright with that.

Gentle he wasn't, fucking down into him with rough jolts amplified by the way he was yanking back on Dev's hips and Dev rocking back eagerly to meet him. And he didn't let up either, keeping a fast and steady rhythm that punched sharp little breaths out of Dev's mouth and ground his knees raw against the concrete. He closed his eyes and just let the ghoul slam against him, let himself be tossed around at the whim of the storm. Let all that violent energy spend itself as he soaked it in and took it for himself.

And then wonderful, dizzying satisfaction when a hot, powerful hand groped around his hip and closed on him, yanking fast and hard to match the fucking his ass was getting. He cried out, strangled and muffled by his sweaty forearm as the pulse in his body ramped up even higher. The sliding drag at both points of contact was driving him completely mad and he had to remind himself to keep a lid on his whimpering little noises. Dev shook and moaned as the ghoul above him panted and leaned down to rest his strange cheek against his back.

And then he _did_ bite. Teeth dug into the soft junction of Dev's neck and shoulder, leaving a wet slick of saliva behind before the ghoul bit in again and growled. It was a warning, maybe; he felt the ghoul stiffen and swell, his hand flinching and then tightening even further and he was spilling himself deep into Dev. He could feel the hot pulses amid the stuttered thrusts and the hard collar of teeth on his neck, the dig of fingernails on his hip, and the deep, tearing breaths coming from the ghoul. And his own tension was working loose, all of it fuzzily rushing together and then pouring out as the ghoul's sweat and pre-come-smeared fist slid over him. He cursed hoarsely as he came, his arms shaking and threatening to spill him face-first onto the ground.

Exhausted, he turned his head again, wondering if he'd be allowed up with no fight or if things were about to turn really ugly in this moment of vulnerability. As the high slipped away, Dev was a little shocked at just how much trust he'd put in the man currently slumped over his back. But maybe it had been well-placed. The ghoul slowly pulled away, surprisingly gentle, and impassively wiped himself off with his hand, not appearing to give a second thought what Dev did. The hand was then scuffed through the dirt on the ground, rubbed against his pant leg, and then set to refastening his armor.

Dev heaved a tired sigh and mimicked the ghoul, wiping up what he could of the sticky trail sliding down his thigh and redressing as he stood. "Thanks," he said, buckling his belt and rolling his shirt back down to cover the bite marks and finger-shaped bruises. And he meant it. One of the weirdest itches he'd had in a long while was now satisfyingly scratched and smoothed over.

The ghoul glanced up, some of the ferocity in his face calmed. "Welcome," he answered. His voice sounded like two rough stones being ground against each other. It fit him.

Dev smiled, a little stunned that he would reply, and backed away; finally turning away from the camp and melting back into the darkness.

-ooo-

"So! How was it?" The sound of Dev's feet crunched up behind him and his voice was incongruously bright and cheerful amid the low howl of the wind. Ulysses glanced toward the sound in time to see Dev hop up onto the rock he was sitting on. He turned back to the canyon before Dev could get a closer glimpse of his face, not trusting it to remain indifferent.

"How was what?" He was pleased for a moment with how natural his voice sounded. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" And then Dev settled himself flush up against his back and he discovered that the resolve he'd thought he could maintain was about to shake and dissolve unremarkably into dust.

He had watched. Watched each grab and thrust and slide with his heart beating behind his eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open. But hadn't done anything about it, figuring that had to be the trade off. He would watch but wouldn't touch. Hadn't wanted to let himself fall to that level. He realized now, with Dev's warm laughter in his ears and warmer hands stroking over his thighs, that that had been a very poor decision. If he had, he might've had some resistance to the lips on his neck and the rough fingers tracing up the seams of his jeans. But his back was arching into Dev's chest and that loud breathing belonged to him.

"I don't like you. At all," Ulysses whispered, knowing he was going to be asked again, and knowing he was going to say yes this time.

"Yeah, that's alright, buddy," Dev said softly with another delicate kiss to the nape of his burning neck. "Just say the word, and I'll like you enough for the both of us."

Chalk down another loss, then. What did it really matter? Who would see him here and witness this pathetic lack of self-respect? He closed his eyes and felt one hand comb through his braids and one about to tick the teeth of his zipper downwards.

He said it, and let himself plunge.


End file.
